


Lets call it a favour

by LittleSpider



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Comfort, Eggsy is a good egg, Harry Hart is a Little Shit, Harry is a bad patient, Hartwin, Hurt, Hurt Harry Hart, I literally had an idea, Lancelot is dead, M/M, Merlin is a spy babysitter, Michelle is a good mother, Other, Protective Michelle, Slow Burn, Violence, Whump, alternative universe, and I am just like rolling with it, bad language, because this is the first original concept i've had since going on my meds, field medicine, harry breaks down, home medicine, merlin is a genius, merlin is a hero, merlin is a sneaky sod, sad harry hart, trusting eggsy unwin, undercover merlin, whump as fuck, wiretapping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 00:08:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10231130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSpider/pseuds/LittleSpider
Summary: On the way home from a night of drinking at The Black Prince, Eggsy stumbles across someone who needs his help...He has no idea what a small act of kindness will unlock...





	1. Chapter 1

“Fuck off mate.”

“Nah, for serious.” Jamal protested.

“Bollocks.” Eggsy chimed in, backing up his mate Ryan, his hands slung in his pockets of his jeans.

“Nah, seriously, you know Jimmy Evans from Rowley Way? He saw her, bruv', down the alleyway between the Spar and Coral, giving Dave a blowie between two bins and after, he bought her a kebab.”

There was a peal of scandalized laughter between the three young men who were walking towards their housing estate.

“Mate, that is well nasty.” Ryan grinned.

“I still would.” Jamal admitted.

“ _You_ are well nasty.” Eggsy replied. “Everyone says she's like a door knob. Everyon's had a turn.”

More scandalized laughter as they neared the Estate.

“You up for FIFA later?” Jamal asked as they paused, waiting to part ways in their usual spot.

“Yeah...” Eggsy paused, and then shook his head. “...Nah. I dunno. Let me see what's happening when I get back yeah?”

“You worried about Dean?” Ryan asked.

“...Nah.” Eggsy said, sniffing deeply and shaking his head. “Fuck him.”

“He's a right prick, Eggsy.” Ryan said, noting Eggsy's disgust. “Your mum should leave him.”

“Yeah, well it ain't that easy is it?” Eggsy replied. “...Fuck it. See ya later, yeah?”

“See ya.”

“See you, Eggsy.”

Eggsy sniffed, dug his cold hands into his pocket a bit deeper and walked towards the barely lit entrance to the estate.

It was fucking freezing. He could see his breath and the cold was starting to creep through the thin material of his jacket.

He didn't necessarily like wearing his Jeremy Scott jacket out for just a night at the pub. Rottie, or Poodle might 'accidentally' spill a beer over it and he couldn't do fuck all about it.

Dean was such a fucking prick. Eggsy often came home to find him passed out on the couch, drunk, the TV blasting out and wondered if he could get away with suffocating the cunt.

But that would just leave him in jail, and his mum and Daisy without any money and the shame of having two dead husbands and a murderer as a son.

Eggsy sniffed, his nose running in the cold air and headed towards the stairs when he heard a strange noise.

It sounded like a wheeze.

He paused, listening.

It might be a tramp, or one of Dean's regular customers having the shakes.

It was nothing to do with him...Move on.

He prepared to start forwards again, getting out of there before he became a witness.

“...Help...me...” came a weak voice.

Eggsy paused and rolled his eyes.

He couldn't...

His dad wouldn't have wanted that and him would never forgive him.

Eggsy turned around and looked around, looking for where it was coming from, his hand on his phone ready to call an ambulance and get the fuck out of there.

In the shadow of the unlit area near the bins, he saw the glint of something shining in the moonlight twinned with some heavy breaths.

He stepped a few paces forwards, towards the shuddered breathing and saw that the glint of light were glasses...on a man.

“Mate, you alright?” he asked, keeping a wary distance. “...You need an ambulance?”

The word seemed to animate the man.

“No!” came the well spoken protest, as he lurched forwards, leaving the black bin-bags that were piled around the bins but the whimper that followed the heavy thud as he collapsed in front of him.

This bloke wasn't a dealer, or a junkie.

He wasn't a tramp, or a drunk.

This bloke was money.

Eggsy knelt down, still a decent distance away and looked at the spindly looking man passed out in front of him in the light of the street lamp.

Floppy brown hair that had grey streaks, pin-striped suit, blood stained hands, glasses.

Looked about mid forties, maybe older, it was hard to tell from this angle.

But whatever this was, he was hurt.

Eggsy swallowed and thought about what he should do.

Self preservation instincts, that shit that animals did when they knew they were fucked, told him to run.

His mum would tell him to call an ambulance.

“Mate...look...” Eggsy began. “I ain't in the mood for any funny shit, yeah? I've had a few and to be honest, I just want to go home and get to bed...let me call you an ambulance...yeah?”

The man grunted in protest, but it quickly died out as he appeared to pass out completely, his body becoming lapse on the ground.

Eggsy suddenly straightened up and realized he might have just witnessed a death.

He looked around, up and down the alleyway, around to the security cameras that never fucking worked and quickly knelt on the ground, shaking the man's shoulder.

“Mate? Oi! Geezer?”

He sighed and grabbed both of the man's shoulders, turning him over on his back.

Eggsy looked at him, and for some reason, whether it was the panic, or the adrenaline in his body or the four pints he knocked back at the pub, he felt a rush of warm down both arms and a shivering in his chest.

He suddenly wanted to help this bloke...And then he saw the blood...

“...Fuckin' hell...”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy navigates his way to his room with the injured stranger, but what's the next step?

Tonight would remain a mystery to Eggsy even if he lived to be 99, pissing his nappy in an old folks home.

He would never know how he managed to get all six foot of an barely conscious, bloodied up stranger up three flights of stairs on his own.

He would never know how he did it without being seen.

And he would never know why the fuck he did it when he should have just called a fucking ambulance like every scrap of common sense was demanding him to.

The stranger, under the blood and filth from the bins smelled like expensive cologne and posh hair stuff that he saw his dad put in his hair once when he had a posh dinner to go to.

He weighed a tonne and was all legs. If only he'd fucking try and walk, but instead he just collapsed helplessly onto Eggsy.

Fucks sake...

“Nearly there...” Eggsy found himself muttering as they reached his front door.

 _Fuck_.

What was Dean gonna say if he was still up?

He'd probably beat the shit out of Eggsy for bringing trouble to his door (f _ucking rich, coming from the biggest dealer on the estate_ ), and then rob the stranger before dumping him in the stairwell.

He looked to the stranger whose head was bowed, the hair flopping forwards and obscuring his face.

Fuck...Fuck...Fuck..

Eggsy slid his key quietly into the lock and turned it to let himself in, pushing the door open just enough so it didn't creak and listened.

Listened for a TV, for Poodle, Rottie, his mum, Daisy...anyone, or anything.

But there was no flickering from the TV, no sounds of raucous laughter, no sniffling baby.

Coast was clear.

He looked to the stranger and quickly formulated the next bit of this bullshit plot.

Get him to the one place nobody would look.

His room.

“Pick up ya feet, yeah?” he grunted, tugging his hand over his shoulder a little more and looked towards the door that led to his room, his mum and Dean's room and the bathroom.

The constant ' _what the fuck are you doing?_ ' was now watered down into a drone filling Eggsy's ears as he listened for anything that meant he was in the shit.

The stranger raised his head slightly and hung it again, as if he were trying to come to.

Eggsy shook his head.

“Shh, ya prick.” he muttered, dragging him towards the door, he pushed it open tentatively, checking his mum and Dean's room door was shut before pulling him through to his own room and closing the door. He dumped the stranger on his bed and pulled off his hat.

He heard the door across the hall from him go and held his breath.

Shit...

Shit...

SHIT...

“That you babe? ”

Mum...

“Yeah?”

“You in for the night?”

“Yeah.”

“Sleep well, yeah?”

“Night mum...”

He heard his mum head to the bathroom and closed the door.

Eggsy grabbed the two door-stops he used in lieu of a bedroom lock and rammed them under the door before looking at the stranger on his bed.

He leaned over and flicked the switch on his bedside lamp to get a good look at the bloke he'd risked his arse for.

The man on the bed was in his mid-to-late forties, wearing a sharp navy suit, or at least the parts that weren't covered in blood, had some nice looking glasses on, and was dressed in some seriously stylish gear.

The bleeding didn't seem as bad as it had looked outside, but it was still gonna need sorting.

He'd wait for his mum to go to bed, run in and grab some equipment and then try and—Fucking hell, what was he thinking. He wasn't a doctor, or some have-a-go hero.

All he had was what he learned in the marines, and that wasn't much.

He'd need to ID him in any case, so he could tell the police or whatever when he needed to, because there was no way he could keep him here.

Sanity was starting to prevail.

Eggsy leaned in, using all of his skills that he had learned on the estate to relieve people of their keys, wallets, purses and other goodies that at first were treats and had soon become a means to an end, and reached into the man's inside jacket for his wallet.

A hand snatched his, sticky fingers fastening around his wrist, encircling it and he was met with hard, chocolate coloured eyes.

Eggsy withdrew, springing back his wrist still captive in the strangers fingers.

“Mate...Mate...” he began in hushed tones, his green eyes alert and frightened.

“Who are you?!”

“Shh! Shh!”

The strangers eyes darted left and right, taking in the surroundings.

“Mate...please don't make a noise yeah? My mum and my baby sister are tryin' to sleep and my step-dad will kill me if he finds out yo—here, ain't you in pain?”

Eggsy's eyes darted to the spot where the man was bleeding from his lower abdomen.

The man looked down briefly at his side and gave a frown before looking at him and releasing his wrist, unbuttoning his jacket and pulling it aside to reveal a great big red stain on his side.

“...Bollocks.” he heard the stranger mutter.

It was strange, he looked like he'd never even heard the word 'bollocks' before yet he pronounced it with such authenticity Eggsy was certain he owned the patent to the word.

He looked to Eggsy again.

“...look, about that ambulance?”

“No ambulances.” he replied hoarsely. “It's just a flesh wound.”

“Alright, Taxi to a hospital?”

“No. No hospitals.”

“You just lost a fuck tonne of blood mate. What happened?” Eggsy instantly regretted asking that question.

The bloke had insisted on no ambulance, that meant that it was something either he couldn't answer questions about or something dodgy.

He looked at him again, and began to undo the lower buttons of his shirt.

Eggsy turned around slightly, looking at his dress mirror under the pretence of looking for blood on his shirt. He wanted to give him some privacy.

“...so what's your name? Normally anyone who makes it back to my bed tells me their name first...” he hesitated the joke.

“...Harry.” The man replied absently.

“You wanna tell me why you were taking a kip by the bins, Harry?”

“No.”

Eggsy rolled his eyes slightly and turned around to find Harry investigating a gash that ran across his stomach, but didn't seem to be bleeding much anymore.

“Look mate. I don't really do this very often, you know, pick up strangers randomly and bring them home when they're bleeding out. But given the circumstances, the fact you're—what you looking at?”

“...What's that?” Harry asked, his eyes focused his chest.

Eggsy looked down, expecting to see blood he'd missed, but there was nothing there. Just his medallion.

“Oh? This?” he asked, thumbing it. “Something...my dad left me.”

Harry got to his feet uncertainly, the wound bleeding a bit and the colour draining from his face.

He looked to Eggsy, his eyes creasing, not in pain, but...something else.

“...Eggsy...?”

Eggsy's stomach jolted.

He hadn't given his name, he hadn't said anything...

He looked down at his medal.

Then back at the man. Removed the grey in his hair, the lines from his face...

“...Fuckin' hell...”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy tries to get to the bottom of who this Harry is. And why he's back after seventeen years.

Harry had blanched, a fuck ton, he looked like he'd just eaten a bad burger a mile away from a loo.

Eggsy was half tempted to move forwards and get him sat back on his bed but the other half was panicking that this stranger was the same bloke who had delivered the news that his dad was dead, seventeen years ago.

Harry's eyes, were focused on Eggsy now, in a way that made Eggsy feel sick. He could read his expression.

It was panic.

It was concern.

It was surprise.

“...The fuck you doing here?” Eggsy demanded in a quiet hiss.

Harry stammered slightly and held his side.

“...I...Y...I had no idea...this was your estate...I...” Harry floundered.

Eggsy was torn between grabbing his wallet (that was pathetically empty) and splitting or shouting for his mum and Dean—even if bringing a perfect stranger into the home of the biggest dealer on the estate would probably mean Eggsy would end up in Intensive care.

But Harry, this guy here in his bedroom right now, was the only way he'd find out the truth about his dad.

His mum refused to speak about it, saying that his dad had died with his squad on tour. No grave. No body. Nothing.

Just an uneasiness around the 19th of December where Eggsy walked on two sets of eggshells instead of one.

Eggsy thought quickly and stepped backwards, reaching for his dad's picture.

“Who's this?” he asked, showing it to the bleeding stranger. “You know this face, yeah?”

Harry's eyes, bathed in sweat focused on the picture. He lingered on it for a moment, his eyebrows meeting as he swallowed thickly and looked back at Eggsy.

“Lee Unwin.”

“And how do you know him?” Eggsy asked. “You came here, Christmas in 1997. You told my mum he was dead. You were with him when he died. I want answers.”

Harry's chin lifted and his jaw set.

“Really? Right now?” he asked, his fingers pressing into his side.

“Yeah, I think now is a good time, Harry.” Eggsy replied cooly.

He shook his head.

“I can't tell you that.”

“Yeah? Well, I'm gonna call that ambulance then and you can think about it in hospital.”

Eggsy reached for his phone.

“No!”

Harry started forwards and grabbed at Eggsy's phone with his bloody hands only to collapse as Eggsy stepped backwards away from him.

Harry grunted and held his side that was now bleeding again.

“...Fuck.” Eggsy muttered and put the picture hastily down before dropping to his knees. “Harry, for fucks sake! Let me call an ambulance!”

He shook his head hastily.

“No...” he grunted, his eyes fluttering closed again.

Eggsy ran his hand through his hair, knocking his cap off in the process.

An unconscious stranger who was probably connected with the Army was collapsed in his room.

His step-dad, a notorious violent drug dealer was sleeping in the room next door next to his mother who was one unpaid bill away from being sent to the funny-farm and his baby half sister was sleeping soundly, completely unaware of the shit-storm that was unfolding.

Eggsy's hand fell, as it often did in times of trouble on the pendant that was hanging around his neck.

He gazed down at it, and flipped it around, gazing at the six digit phone number he had stared at through red, tearful eyes so many times over the years and thought that if anyone could help him now, it would be these guys.

He pushed Harry onto his side, half-remembering the recovery position they learned in school and dialled the number into his phone.

 _12-19-97_. No area code. Eggsy had always queried that.

He put the phone to his ear and waited.

Finally, someone picked up

“Customer Complaints...”

Eggsy hesitated, and looked down at his medal.

Had he dialled the wrong number?

Of course not, he'd memorised this number by heart the day he learned his dad was dead.

“Um...my name is Eggsy Unwin.” Eggsy furrowed his brow, cursing his own stupidity as he forgot to give his real name. “...Gary Unwin, and I'm up shit creek. The bloke who gave me this number is in my bedroom, and he's hurt. He won't let me call an ambulance.”

“...Sorry love, wrong number.” came the semi-sympathetic reply.

“Wait!” Eggsy panicked, sitting up on his knees. “...Oxfords, not Brogues.”

“...Your complaint has been duly noted, and we hope we have not lost you as a loyal customer.”

“Eh?”

The line went dead.

“Oi! Don't you want my address??”

He hastily dialled the same number again, only for it to play the familiar:

' _Beep-Beep-Beep: The number you have dialled has not been recognised. Please check and try again._ '

Eggsy sat back on his knees and looked down at Harry, the stranger in the 'nice suit' from his childhood who gave his mum the medal that was his version of a fairy God mother—or some shit like that.

“Fucks sake.” he sighed and sat back against his bed, wondering why what should have been a good deed had backfired so spectacularly.

 

*

 

12 Miles away, in the depths of a English country houses basement, a bald man with an impressive computer set up got a telephone call on a phone he dreaded ringing.

He picked it up without removing his eyes from the screen in front of him.

“Merlin, _19-12-97_ called.”

Merlin's eyes pulled away from the screen.

He knew the number. He'd been waiting for it for seventeen years.

“...pass it along to Galahad.” he ordered softly. “It's his favour.”

“That's the issue, Merlin. Galahad _is_ the favour.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Likely, this is going to be a weekly upload every Friday where possible.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy tries his hand at field medicine, and tries to get more information out of Harry.

Eggsy had managed to get Harry back onto the bed and after a quick foray into the bathroom after he had heard his mum go back to bed, had picked up a flannel, some Dettol from the kitchen and a bottle of water. For good measure, he'd also grabbed the sewing tin that was kept under the sink.

He'd poured a good measure of the orange-brown liquid onto the flannel and pressed it against Harry's side, keeping a firm pressure like he'd been taught in the Marines and looked to see if it had roused the older man.

Nothing.

“Fucks sake...” he muttered and wiped the blood away from the man's stomach.

Eggsy had to hand it to him.

He was knocking fifty at least judging by the grey in his hair and the heavier lines on his forehead, but he was in shape.

“...You got fucking abs, mate? You up to date with your pure gym membership?” he asked as he inspected the flannel to see if he had stopped bleeding.

The bleeding was easing off now and despite the blood loss, it didn't look deep, just nasty.

Eggsy folded over the flannel and poured another liberal amount of disinfectant on it and dabbed around the area.

Granted, he wasn't exactly a nurse, but he wasn't gonna let this bloke get tetanus from this wound.

Harry grunted slightly.

“Shh.” he muttered. “I'm cleaning you up.”

Harry's eyes opened blearily.

“...I didn't know...you lived here...” he muttered.

“Yeah, well I do. Question is, why the _fuck_ are you here, and why the _fuck_ won't you let me call the ambulance?”

He pressed a little harder than he should have and Harry winced.

“I can't answer that.” he murmured, closing his eyes.

Eggsy looked at the wound and then back at Harry.

“Judging by the shape, the size. You got shanked, mate. It's gonna get infected and keep bleedin' out. You need stitches.”

“Hmm-mm.”

“What colour you prefer?” Eggsy asked, opening the Quality Street tin and picking out a few reels of cotton. “I got pink, navy blue, or grey.”

Harry's eyes snapped open.

“...Absolutely not!”

He moved to sit up again, but Eggsy pushed him down.

“Mate, Stop fucking about yeah? You're gonna fucking bleed to death if you keep up. You won't let me call the ambulance and you won't let me stitch you up, so that's your other fucking option yeah?”

Harry looked at Eggsy, he had sweat on his brow and was looking pale.

“Look. The idea of givin' you stitches isn't appealin' to me either, but until your people call back.”

“...My people?” Harry asked.

Eggsy sighed, and put the reels down. He didn't have time for this.

“You gave me a medal, yeah? When I was a kid.” he said, looking for more thread in the tin that was full of odd pins, balls of loose cotton and wool. “You said there was a number and a favour on it. So I called it in.”

Harry seemed to scrutinize him with confusion, but his eyes seemed soft, not harsh.

He looked at his stomach, his fingers brushing the wound carefully, inspecting it.

“...Single stitches. Use the one in your hand.”

Eggsy looked down at the reel that was still sealed in plastic in his hand and nodded.

“...rinse your hands in the disinfectant, and dip the needle in it. A curved needle if you can find one.”

Eggsy followed the man's orders as closely as he could, even spilling the rest of the disinfectant on his carpet which would warrant questions tomorrow.

 _Fuck_...

_As if that would be the main question tomorrow._

“Sounds like you've done this before.” Eggsy mentioned as he moved to thread a curved needle he found in a packet holding it to the lamp light. “You a banker? You look like one.”

“Tailor.” Harry replied curtly..

“Shouldn't you be sewin' then?” he asked with a sneer.

Harry's exhalation came in a sharp sniff. Clearly his joke was wasted on him, then again, he probably was in a lot of pain.

“Had to stitch up a lot of people than have you, Harry? Being a 'tailor'?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably.

“Do you have something that I can bite down on?” he asked.

Eggsy was about to query it, but then realized that Harry was likely going to be in a lot more pain in a second when he started stitching.

Eggsy pulled open the draw on his bedside cabinet and gave him a pair of clean, rolled up socks.

Harry looked unsure, but he put the socks in his mouth in any case.

Eggsy pulled off the thread and looked at him.

“Ready?”

Harry closed his eyes once and gave a nod as Eggsy moved to begin stitching.

He had no idea where to start, or what to do, if there was a special type of stitch that surgeons did when closing people up, but given the sheer fucked-upness of this situation, it didn't really matter.

He sunk the needle into the skin as Harry's eyes tightened in pain, his fingers curling into the padding of Eggsy's duvet.

“...you alright, Harry?”

Harry nodded quickly, a little too quickly. Clearly a lie.

Eggsy looked and assumed that he had to hook it through the other side and pull the two sides together, blood was starting to ooze again.

Eggsy pressed on an stitched the two sides together as Harry gave a muffled murmur through the socks.

He tied it off, then did the next one, looking to Harry for guidance. He gave several reassuring nods through the procedure, even when drops of blood were soaking into the waistband of his trousers and Eggsy mis-stitched and had to redo it. He occasionally grunted into the black cotton of the socks but didn't scream, or flinch too badly.

Eggsy was fucking impressed, if very confused.

Finally, the last stitch was done and Eggsy tied it off and Harry took the socks from his mouth.

“...water?” he croaked.

Eggsy quickly gave him the bottle with bloody hands and watched as Harry washed off the blood around hs wound a little, spilling a small amount of bloody water onto Eggsy's bed and thirstily drunk the remainder.

Eggsy reached for the flannel and handed it to him, done being nurse-maid before binning the needle and thread.

He looked at him.

“...will they call back?” he asked. “Or is that number a dud? Some woman was acting like i'd called the wrong number, then I said what you told my mum to say, and she said my complaint had been noted or some shit.”

Harry put the bottle on the night-stand and looked to him.

“They'll see to it.” he replied simply. “Thank you, by the way...Much appreciated.”

Harry closed his eyes, and rested back against the bed, leaving Eggsy completely astounded.

What the FUCK...was going on?

Eggsy sat back for a while, against his wardrobe, wondering what he was going to do come morning when Dean finally got out of bed, or his mum came in to bring him his morning cuppa and found a middle aged man, half bloody on his bed.

Somehow, with the weight of what was to come, and what would happen to him and his mum and Daisy, the fact this bloke knew his dad, the medal, the phone call...

He closed his eyes.

And fell asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know these chapters are small, but with weekly updates, i'm hoping to stick to a routine and write on my day off every Friday.
> 
> Forgive the lateness with this one though, this new poster has got me all of a quiver!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning comes, and Eggsy has a whole new host of problems when the Gasman arrives

“Eggsy!”

Eggsy sat up with a start, his eyes opening as the slither of light from his bedroom assassinated his eyes with a beam of morning light.

But why?

He was sat up, his neck hurt, he was fully clothed, he could smell dettol.

He opened his eyes properly and saw the same man from last night, lying stretched out on his bed, his hand wrapped around his stomach, orange rusted stains of dry blood staining the pure white shirt.

“Eggsy!!” came the more persistent call of his mother. “Eggsy, you awake babe?”

“Uh...yeah! Yeah! I'm up.” Eggsy said, scrambling to his feet, leaning forwards and checking the bloke he'd brought home and sewed up was still alive.

“Eggsy, come on. Dean's nipped out to the shop and I need you up and about yeah? You know what he's like.”

_Eggsy knew alright..._

“I'm getting changed mum, yeah? Be out in a minute.”

He heard his mother retreat and gave Harry a good shove.

“Oi!” he hissed. “You awake?!”

Harry gave a soft grunt and a hiss.

“...Fuck...” he muttered and unburied his head from the depths of Eggsy's pillow to gaze down at who had shoved him.

Eggsy looked at him, wondering if he was trying to piece it all together, hoping he'd drop some information on what had happened in a sleepy mistake, but Harry just sighed and lay back, his sleep curled hair sliding over his eyes.

“Good morning.” Eggsy greeted. “Not to be funny, but your people didn't call back, and you need to get gone, yeah?”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“You're a most gracious host.” Harry remarked sarcastically, sitting up with some hesitation. “But you're quite right. I have quite outstayed my welcome.”

Eggsy sat back on his thighs.

“Right, you stay here yeah? 'Cause my mum, if she sees you, will flip her shit, and if Dean sees you, he'll probably knock us both out 'til next Friday.”

Harry's brow puckered slightly, as if he were trying to divine what he meant but instead got to his feet, wincing as he did.

“You need me to call you a cab, Guv'nor?”

Harry gave a faint smile of amusement and shook his head.

“No, I'll cope, thank you. Your assistance was greatly appreciated last night.”

Eggsy was busy stuffing the results of last night under the bed, throwing the empty disinfectant bottle in his overflowing bin and making agreeing noises.

“Yeah, no worries.”

Harry carefully tucked his shirt in and buttoned his jacket carefully over it. There was a faint sweat on his face.

“You alright?” Eggsy asked, straightening up.

Harry nodded and straightened his tie.

Despite being half-dead when Eggsy found him last night, and if you ignored the crusted blood around his fingernails and on his hands, he looked pretty presentable.

“Look...wait in here, yeah? Mum goes in the shower while I watch my sister, Dean's out, I can let you out then.”

Just then there was a ring on the doorbell.

Eggsy paused.

“...Eggsy!” he heard his mum yell. “Get the door, babe?”

Eggsy sighed.

“Stay here yeah? I'll come back for you when the coast is clear. If you're hungry, there's some chocolate in my drawer.”

Harry's gaze moved to the drawer next to the bed and gave a confused, but decisive nod.

Eggsy tidied himself up, pulled a cap on and slid out of the room and headed across the flat to the door.

The bell rang again.

“Alright!” Eggsy called as he opened the door. “Keep ya hair o-”

Stood at the door was a very tall, very bald man with glasses wearing a dark blue jumpsuit. He was carrying a green clipboard.

“Mornin'.” he began in a thick Scottish accent. “Gasman, come t'read y'meter.”

Eggsy felt his cheeks flush slightly and looked to the kitchen.

_Where would it be kept?_

“Uh...Mum!” he yelled, feeling about five years old. “Where's the gas meter?”

“Outside!” she yelled back from the bathroom. “Same place it was last time!”

The man looked to his clipboard.

“Sorry.” he replied. “They dinnae tell me nothin'.”

With that, the man moved to the white box to the side of the door and began to open it.

Eggsy shut the door a little and moved to the cot, looking at Daisy who was awake and kicking her fat legs in her crib.

“'Ello gorgeous.” he beamed at her. “'Ello gorgeous, you grown overnight! You're gonna be bigger than me come Friday!” He reached in and tickled her stomach. Daisy spat out her dummy and began chuckling.

Michelle finally walked in, drying her hands on a towel.

“You alright babe?” she asked him. “Had a good night last night?”

Eggsy nodded, pulling away from the cot to look up at his mum.

“Yeah, it was alright.”

“You got that money for Dean?”

 _Fuck_.

 _FUCK_.

He'd completely fucking forgotten about Dean's rent money.

_Shit. SHIT._

He could see the panic growing in his mums eyes. If he said 'no', she'd be worried sick and fret, and look about pawning something of hers again like last time so Eggsy didn't get another black eye.

“...Course I have.” he smiled. “Don't worry, yeah mum?”

His mum smiled at him lovingly and leaned in, giving him a hug.

“What would I do without you, Eggsy?”

Eggsy wrapped his arms around her and leaned into her, something he did a lot less frequently now that he was older and that any form of affection he gave to his mum was greeted with sneers and speculation on his sexuality from Dean.

Just then, the door knocked again and the Gas man leaned in.

“Sorry t'intrude. Can I just check y'central heating? There's an anomaly on y'meter reading I want to get checked.”

His mum looked at Eggsy, then at the man.

“Yeah, it's on the wall over there.” she replied, nodding to the wall. “What do you mean, Anomaly?”

The man was crossing the living room, taking notes on his clipboard.

“Probably a fluctuation that might result in some savings when the meter readings match up.”

Eggsy shrugged.

He might as well be talking Chinese for all Eggsy understood meter readings.

His mum seemed satisfied, so he didn't press it.

Just then the door opened up and Dean walked in.

Eggsy felt a thrill of dread go through him.

_Fuck, how was he gonna get Harry out of there now?_

Eggsy looked to his room.

Harry might be able to lend him the cash to get out of this fix, Dean might take it to the pub and spend it on drink, and that way him, Daisy and his mum will get rid of him for the day and he could sneak Harry out when mum has her shower.

He was just about to go to it when Dean called.

“Who's this?”

Eggsy looked back and saw him nod to the Gasman.

“The Gasman.” his mum responded. “You want some tea, Dean?”

Dean slung the paper and bread on the counter with a thud.

Eggsy stuck his fists into his pocket and looked to the Gasman who was making a few notes on his clipboard as he tinkered with the unit before turning around and going to his room.

“Oi.”

Eggsy paused, hearing his stepdad familiar gruff voice.

“...You got that money?”

“Yeah. It's in my room.” he replied. “I'll get it.”

The Gasman gave him a brief glance.

Eggsy quickly moved into his room and looked to Harry who was sat there. He'd smartened himself up and he was waiting to leave.

“Look, Harry. You can't leave yet, its like Piccadilly fuckin' circus out there, but I got a question for you, and I swear down I will pay you back, but do you have £200 I could borrow, like right now?”

Harry's jaw dropped slightly.

“Well...I...”

Eggsy's cheeks flushed for the second time that morning.

“Look, I know its a big ask, and I totally get why you'd say no. But, I'm in shit creek, yeah? If I don't give my stepdad £200 he's gonna knock me out.”

Harry's eyes creased with something like sympathy and it shamed Eggsy to his stomach.

“I don't have it on me, right now Eggsy. I don't carry that much money around with me.”

Eggsy knew it had been a long shot, but it was worth a try.

“I can...I...” Harry seemed to be floundering, struggling with what he was trying to say. “...does he _hurt_ you regularly, Eggsy?”

Eggsy turned his face away, swallowing down embarrassment.

“Look, guv, can you help me or not?”

Harry looked at him, setting his jaw, his eyes turning a darker brown as he did.

“I can have the money in your bank account in twenty minutes.”

Eggsy felt a thrill of relief that left a trail of ugly disgrace in its wake.

“I swear, I'll pay--”

“No.” he replied. “Please. No. Consider it a thank you.”

“Do you need my bank details?”

“OI. MUGGSY.”

Eggsy looked to the door in fear.

“He _beats_ you?” Harry asked, looking into his face in a way that Eggsy didn't like. “...doesn't he? Does he hurt your mother too?”

Eggsy wanted to retort but he heard his mum start to vouch for him, telling Dean not to be so sharp with him.

Eggsy left the room quickly to get to his mum.

“Dean, I can have it in twenty minutes yeah? I forgot, it's still at Jamal's house. He was keeping it for me.”

Dean leaned in, grabbing Eggsy's chin.

“You're a dirty fuckin' lying _cunt_.”

“DEAN PLEASE!” His mum called.

Just then the Gasman turned, and touching the watch on his wrist sent something flying into Dean's neck.

Dean held his neck and pitched forwards quickly, hitting the floor with a deafening thud.

Eggsy stared at his body before looking up at the Gasman who was stood, his arm extended at Dean.

The Gasman quickly adjusted the dial before aiming it at him. Eggsy's hands were thrown up in the air.

His mum ran in front of him immediately, her arms spread.

“Don't hurt him! This ain't his fault!”

“Where is _Harry Hart_?” The Gasman asked.

His mum's mouth opened, her blue eyes wide and tearful.

“...W-Why you askin' that?”

“He's in my room.” Eggsy replied quickly. “She didn't know, please, leave her out of it. I called that number!”

The Gasman called out, inclining his head slightly to the left towards the bedrooms as he did.

“Harry! Get out here!”

Eggsy could feel his mum starting to break down as his little sister started crying in her cot.

His eyes closed bitterly.

His mum gave a yelp of shock when Harry appeared.

The Gasman gave him a nod, and seemed to glance over him briefly.

“I've darted Baker, _Sir_. What of these two?”

Eggsy looked to Harry, questioning what the fuck was going on.

“Leave them.” Harry replied. “And lower your bloody arm.” he ordered.

The Gasman adjusted the dial and lowered his arm.

“They've seen too much.” he muttered.

“They've seen it before.” Harry countered.

Eggsy was shaking his head in disbelief.

What the fuck was going on here??

“What's going on, mum?” he asked.

His mum sobbed out and covered her mouth.

“I told you, I didn't need your help!” she cried at Harry.

Harry didn't flinch, but he looked to the man on the floor with a determination he did not act on.

“Mum?!” Eggsy demanded. “The fuck is going on?”

Daisy in the background wailed for comfort at the sound of raised voices.

“Why did you call them, Eggsy?!” she cried, turning to him, gripping his lapels on his jacket.

“I had to mum! He was hurt!” Eggsy said, his cheeks reddening.

Just then, the front door swung open and Rottie, Dean's second in command with the rest of the pack were stood there.

“...The fuck is going on here?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the huge update but I had a good day, it appears.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy learns that Harry seems to be a stickler for Manners.

“Rottie...” began Michelle, walking towards him and raising her hands to placate him. “Just calm down, yeah?”

“Shut up.” he sneered, eyes only for Eggsy it seemed. “You done this?”

Eggsy tightened his jaw and raised his head a little.

“What if I have? What you gonna do, prick?”

“Harry, no.” Eggsy heard the Gasman whisper wearily behind him.

“I'll fucking 'ave you, son.” Rottie snarled, advancing on Eggsy, three or four others following in close quarters.

“Didn't your mother teach you that it was bad manners to be rude to your host?” Harry asked, his voice raising slightly as he looked to the men. His accent alien amongst the fray, pausing the proceedings.

“Who the fuck are you?” Asked Rottie, his eyes moving from Eggsy who he'd now closed in on so they were inches apart.

“Somebody who objects to the way you just spoke to the lady of the house.”

Behind Rottie, the larger, more brutish looking of the men sneered something inaudible and the rest of the men sniggered.

“This don't concern you or spam-head. So get out, and forget you saw this, yeah?” Rottie suggested.

Eggsy knew that Harry was injured, and honestly, this had gotten so far out of hand, Eggsy was wondering how the fuck he was going to survive a beating whilst trying to protect his mother and Daisy.

The Gasman sighed behind him, and carefully placed his clipboard down on the dresser as Harry walked up to Rottie, who was at least two inches taller than him.

“I would say that Mrs. Baker thinks that you have outstayed your welcome, young man. So would you boys mind leaving? Perhaps rearranging this meeting for another time that suits you?”

Rottie grabbed Harry's tie and reared back to headbutt him.

Harry brought his elbow round, catching Rottie's nose and sending him flying back in a spray of fresh blood. As Rottie staggered back, reeling from the unexpected blow, the brute behind him caught him.

Harry looked to them all.

“...Offer still stands, boys.”

Just then, _Shep_ brought his fist around to knock Harry out and as Harry ducked, the Gasman caught the fist and gripping it and twisted his hand sharply, breaking his wrist before following it up with a punch in the face.

Eggsy's jaw dropped open as his mum ran to the cot and pulled Daisy who was still wailing to her chest, running to the bathroom.

Eggsy decided that his priority was to his mum and Daisy and not to get into the fray as these two blokes had it covered so he put himself between the door way and the fight, ready to stop anyone who wanted to get past him.

It seemed like that wouldn't be an issue as Harry and the Gasman seemed to have this covered...

Bulldog, grabbed the coffee table and smashed it over the Gasman's back who barely seemed to feel it as Harry, despite his injury grabbed the up-lighter lamp that mum brought from Argos last Christmas and smashed it across Bulldog's back collapsing him.

Poodle saw this and grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels on the dresser and went to smash it over Harry's head. The Gasman pulled Harry bodily out of the way as the momentum of the swing sent Poodle arse over tit and onto Bulldog's barely stirring body, smashing the unconscious Dean across the head with it.

Harry deftly brought the table leg over the back of Poodles head and knocked him out before both men turned to the remainder, Rottie who had got to his feet.

Both men raised their wrists and darted him in perfect unison, sending him flat on his back, smacking his head off the refrigerator.

Harry offered his hand to the Gasman.

“Thank you, I appreciate the help.”

“If there's a way of Harry Hart to drag me into the shit, he'll find it.” The Gasman sighed, taking the hand and shaking it.

Just then, Harry winced and held his side.

“You alright, Harry?” Eggsy asked, starting forwards

It was at that moment that they seemed to have remembered he was there.

The Gasman pulled open Harry's jacket and saw the damage.

“Christ. We need to get you fixed up.” he muttered. “Come on.”

“We can't leave them here.” Harry replied. “When Baker wakes up, sees this, they'll be in danger.”

“Aye, unless we arrange a clean up.” Gasman replied.

Eggsy walked forwards.

“Look, please, you gotta get us out of here yeah? You saw what happened, I don't want my mum and baby sister dealing with this shit any more.

You ain't a tailor, and you ain't a fucking Gasman.” Eggsy began, pointing at the Gasman who had now retrieved his clipboard. “You got somewhere you can take us? Just for now?”

Harry looked to the Gasman.

“He's Unwin's boy.”

The Gasman's stern expression, the heavy eyebrows that were knitted together in what seemed to be dismay eased up. He looked to Eggsy, and then back to Harry.

“Come on then.” he said. “...Arthur's going to lose his shite with you.”

Harry looked to Eggsy.

“Go and get your mother.”

Eggsy sprang away, running down the hallway that led to their bedrooms and bathroom and banged on the door.

“Mum! Mum! It's me! Come on! We gotta go! We gotta go, Harry is gonna take us somewhere safe, yeah? You, me and the baby.”

“No!” Michelle cried, opening the door.” We can't!”

“Mum!” Eggsy began with panicked exasperation. “They just laid Dean's gang out, you know what he's gonna do when he wakes up!”

“Eggsy, please.” his mum wept, her eyes red and puffy, Daisy clinging to her shoulder crying. “You don't know what he's like, why I never called for help.”

“Mum, I don't care if he wipes Satan's arsehole on the weekends, right now he's our only way out, and you gotta come with me.”

“Babe, I can't!”

“MUM!”

He grabbed his mum by the shoulders.

“We can't fuck about. This is serious. Dean wakes up, we're dead. You, me and Daisy.”

His mum seemed to crumble a little more and she shushed Daisy a little, easing the child's tears.

“Mum, please. I can't stay, and but if you don't come with me, I'm gonna have to.”

That was all Michelle needed to hear.

She got to her feet, cradling Daisy in her arms and foll owed him, sniffing from the tears rolling down her tired face and when she saw the pile of bodies in the living room she made a cry of terror.

“Mrs. Baker...” Harry began formally. “We're going to get you out of here, alright?”

Eggsy looked back at his mum over his shoulder who was eyeing Harry with mistrust, even disgust by the way her nose was wrinkled.

“She'll be alright, she's just a bit freaked out.”

The Gasman looked to them all and then to Harry.

“M'vehicle is downstairs, come along.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter/Passover/Ostara/Vaisakhi/non religious rest period!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy questions his mum over Harry, and Harry takes Eggsy and his family somewhere rather personal.

****

Eggsy couldn't believe his luck.

He was riding in the back of a _British Gas_ van with his mum and little sister, having just escaped having his arse kicked by Dean and his gang because two men he's barely known provided them with an out.

Never mind his luck, Eggsy couldn't believe his eyes.

Them two old fuckers had beat the shit out of them without breaking a sweat.

And now he was sat in the back of this van, that looked nothing like the back of any workers van he'd seen, and he'd lifted tools from a fair few.

It was sleek, custom kitted one with metal tool cases that had combination locks. There were black padded benches either side of the van where he and his mum were sat and hang rails to hold onto though the man driving, he assumed the bald bloke, was driving smoothly. Not really making a getaway.

He hadn't had a chance to think but was slowly being brought back to his senses by the quietening noise of his baby sister who was now no longer crying, but was whimpering instead as his mum was shushing her with shaky breaths.

He hazarded a look at her, and saw her blue eyes were swollen from crying and her hand, that cradled the back of Daisy's head was shaking.

“Mum.” he began, nervously.

She looked to him, and there was a look of betrayal on her face and Eggsy felt it like a punch to the gut.

“Mum, he was gonna hurt you and Daisy if I kept you there. Harry owes me a favour, you said that yourself ages ago--”

“And I told you only to use it when you was in danger, Eggsy!” she hissed, pain streaking her voice. “When you was in real danger, not because you brought some stranger into our home! Why did you bring him home?!”

“Mum he was hurt!” Eggsy uttered quietly, mindful of his sister. “He was bleedin' all over the place! What was I meant to do??”

“Call an ambulance, Eggsy!”

“I couldn't mum! He was bleeding, he'd been shanked, you know what happens round here. The police get involved and you become a grass, and I ain't no grass.”

“And this is better, is it? Us leaving in the back of some van with two men who've just beat up my husband?!”

“Mum!”

His mum looked at him.

“Mum, what the fuck is going on? Who is he? Why are you so against him? He gave me that medal, yeah? And you told me to call it if I needed help. I needed help, and the way you reacted just made me think you hate him. So tell me, why did you react that way, mum?”

“Eggsy...”

“Is it something to do with dad?”

“EGGSY.” She snapped, hard.

“Mum, tell me!”

She turned her head away and buried her nose in her daughters hair, closing her eyes and repeating the shushing to her now silent daughter.

Eggsy thumped the bench next to him and threw his head back in frustration.

“So you just gonna let us go with him? Not tell me why you don't wanna be with him? You said that I don't know what he's like. So tell me...”

His mum didn't open her eyes, or stop the shushing and Eggsy knew she'd clammed up, just like she did after he'd asked too many questions about his dad, bruises on her arms, or the pills she kept under the sink behind the bleach.

“...He had a watch mum, that knocked Dean out. The pair of them took out Rottie and them like they was from _Lock Stock,_ or some shit.” Eggsy continued. “The pair of them. The Gasman must have been sent by the people I called on that number, cos he asked for him, same watch and all that shit. So that means there's more, right? Was dad one of them, mum? Cos Harry ain't a tailor. Was Harry one of his mates in the marines?”

Michelle's eyes tightened and her shushes became thick with the threat of tears.

Eggsy decided to save his questions for Harry himself.

A short time later, the van slowed after turning right and rumbled down what felt like cobbles before pulling to a stop.

He heard two bangs which were the driver and passengers side doors, and then the back opened and The Gasman was stood there looking at them both.

“...'mon then.”

Eggsy got out as The Gasman extended his hand to help his mum, but she shunned him and edged out herself.

Eggsy looked around and found himself down a posh side street with white painted houses on all sides, cobble stone on the floor, and plants outside each shining door.

Harry, was walking towards the house at the very bottom and was slotting a key into the lock.

Eggsy looked back briefly at his mum who was following, keeping her eyes down on the floor and cradling Daisy as The Gasman closed the doors of the van and locked it before following behind.

Harry opened the door, walked in and unset the house alarm before standing in the doorway, waiting for them.

Eggsy wondered if this was a safe-house as he walked forwards.

As he crossed the threshold, he had an overwhelming urge to take off his shoes as the whole place looked like it was straight out of the _Antiques Roadshow._

Framed coins on the walls, polished wood gleamed and the smell of polish that wasn't anything like the cheap _Tesco_ one his mum used.

Harry was stood in the hallway near the stairs and was looking at his mum who made her way in, and then to The Gasman who filed in behind her and closed the door quietly.

“This is slightly unorthodox.” Harry admitted, looking to Eggsy, then to his mum. “But until other provisions can be made, and we can guarantee your safety, this will have to do. There's a guest room upstairs where you are more than welcome to settle in and make yourself comfortable, and a bathroom you can use to freshen up. If you bear with me for a half hour, I'll ensure that breakfast is made for you.”

Eggsy looked incredulously at Harry.

“Sorry, sorry, 'scuse me, yeah? But what the fuck is going on here?”

His mum looked at Eggsy with a pained expression.

“Nah, I am grateful and all for you laying out Dean like that, because believe me, that has been a long time coming, and for rescuing us and all that, but where are we? What is this place? Who the fuck are you two?”

The Gasman adjusted his glasses behind his mum uncomfortably.

Harry's mouth tightened slightly before he nodded, sliding his hand into his pocket.

“Quite right, perhaps we should have a cup of tea and discuss this.”

Eggsy didn't have that in mind. He was hoping for more immediate answers, but if this was the way it was, fair enough.

“...Merlin, pop the kettle on will you?”

Eggsy swung his head to the bald man who Harry had just addressed and a brief smirk grew on his face.

_Merlin... Fucking Merlin?_

“...if you'd care to follow me?”

Harry opened the door behind him and led them in.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for bearing with me. I know this is a slow burning (read slow as 'snails pace') But thanks for sticking with me.   
> I've got a few medical things going on right now, but this will still be a priority for me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eggsy confronts his mother and Harry's shared past, and Harry receives some bad news

Eggsy had never been anywhere this fancy. Ever. Not even on a school trip.

The wood was polished, dark, and looked like it had been made specifically for Harry, not any Argos or Ikea shit like Dean brought home.

Potted plants in copper pots that gleamed without a single fingerprint or speck of dust, all set in planters.

Overstuffed pillows on leather studded chairs that complimented the carpet and the curtains.

_His TV was in a fucking cabinet. Jesus Christ._

And this was just the living room. The rent here must be fucking insane.

He looked over to his mum, expecting her to be gazing at the sort of living room that she always talked about having one day filled with fine ornaments and Royal Doulton but instead she was too busy focusing on her daughter's sleepy face. Daisy's red lips sealed around her dummy as her eyes grew unfocused, and drowsy.

Eggsy felt guilty as he saw the lines in his mums face, deeper, more pronounced. Perhaps it was because she was frowning, perhaps its because she was tired and hadn't put her make up on yet, perhaps it was because she looked older today than he'd ever seen her.

“...Mum?”

She didn't look at him and his guilt intensified. He looked away, his eyes moving to a picture of a large country estate. Painted. Not a print you could buy from some warehouse sale.

Large, white, extensive grounds.

Eggsy was about to stand up and investigate it more when Merlin walked in.

_Fucking Merlin._

He looked to Eggsy and to his mum, drying his hands on a bathroom towel that looked more expensive than what his mum was wearing.

“How do you take your tea, Eggsy?” he asked softly.

“...I don't.” he replied, a little curt, a little bit of an attitude. He still hadn't forgiven him for going to dart him.

“Mrs. Baker?” he asked, looking to his mum.

“...I'm not thirsty, thank you.” she said quietly.

Merlin nodded. “I'll bring a pot in, in any case. Can I get the bairn a bottle?”

Michelle looked up at him, her brow contorting, her eyes pinched.

“A bottle? You rushed us out of there without me managing to get her a nappy!”

“Mum.” Eggsy began.

At once, his mum looked away from the tall, bald Scot, almost afraid.

But there was no angry retort. No danger. Merlin, just nodded.

“That'll be taken care of.” he replied softly. “I understand that it's difficult for you to trust us, Mrs. Baker. Particularly Harry, but for now, we're going t'have to ask you to.”

Eggsy looked back at his mum, and then back at Merlin.

“Look mate, as much as I want to trust you, I'm having a hard time managing with the fact that Harry, turns up on my doorstep, bleedin' out, recognises this-” he said, plucking his medallion from the necklace and holding it up. “I call the number, you turn up, and the pair of you knock my step dad and his gang out before rescuing us and bringing us here. What the fuck is going on?”

Merlin didn't blink, or wince, or flinch. His lip didn't curl up and he didn't bring his hand around to slap Eggsy down for daring to raise his voice, or curse at him.

“We'll explain when Harry joins us. He's changing his clothes and freshening up. He'll be with us presently.” he said nervelessly.

Eggsy wasn't sated, but he admired Merlin for not reacting.

His guy had to be military. Whenever the lance jacks had someone kicking off in their face they had the same sort of look about them, but he had a feeling that Merlin wouldn't be making him scrub Harry's kitchen with a toothbrush for backchat.

“Eggsy, sit down.” Michelle said softly and Eggsy looked behind him at his mum who was now looking up at him.

Rather than letting his mum stew any more, he reluctantly took a seat, not breaking eye contact with the Scot.

Merlin nodded once and left the room again, heading back into Harry's kitchen to finish the tea.

Harry walked in, joining him.

“You're a daft _bastar_ ' y'know that, right?” Merlin murmured calmly as he set the sugar bowl on the tea tray.

“So you keep telling me.” Harry replied, now wearing a fresh suit, freshly shaved and his hair in a neat side parting.

“What d'y'hope to achieve by bringing them here, Harry?” Merlin uttered quietly, setting the milk jug next to the sugar bowl.

“I was answering the favour. You know how this works, Merlin.” Harry responded innocently.

“Dinnae do that, Harry. Y'know what I mean. You answer the favour, aye, but that's it. If they needed out, they ask y'for an out, y'put them up in a hotel, y'arrange for a property to be bought, y'provide the funds, protection if necessary—if y'can get _that_ past Arthur, but y'dinnae do this. This goes against all protocols.” Merlin responded, his accent getting thicker. “...we should have darted them as soon as we'd dealt with Baker.”

Harry clucked and scoffed.

“That's bullshit, and you know it, old friend.”

Merlin moved to look at him, accusingly.

“You know as well as I do that I couldn't leave him there, all of them there. Waking up with no memory of what happened. And more than that, it's not what Lee would have wanted. Am I to remind you that I owe that young man?”

Merlin's eyes lowered, a silent submission.

“Besides, we can be selective with the truth. There's no need to confess everything to them at this time.”

Merlin sighed and moved to warm the teapot.

“S'ppose so. But you're takin' the fall for this. I'm no' bein in the shit wi'Chester, alright?”

“Fine, fine.” Harry responded. “Leave me in charge of the debrief. And if you'd rather get back to the shop, I understand. “

Merlin gave a nod.

“That I will do. I'll write up the debrief, expect to see you at the shop later, if you can bear to remove yourself from entertainin' that is.”

“And I'll ensure I submit the requests for Mrs. Baker and Eggsy.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

“Watch that lad, he's a chip a mile wide on that shoulder of his.”

Harry scoffed and went to lift the tray.

Merlin lifted it before he could get there.

“Mind your side, that stitchin' is passing at best. You should have seen the medic.”

“It'll do.” he replied. “The boy's rather talented.”

Merlin raised both eyebrows with a smirk.

“Harry Hart, thinkin' wi'his dick whilst his brain has a day off as usual.”

“I resent that implication. He's old enough to be my son. ”

Merlin smirked at him and headed back into the living room where he laid the tea tray on the table, Harry filing in behind him.

Eggsy eyed the man with surprise. He'd managed to make himself presentable in the short time since they'd arrived.

He actually looked pretty fucking good.

Eggsy felt his cheeks flush as he questioned what the _fuck_ he was doing.

“I have to be off.” Merlin began, reining in his accent again. “It was lovely to meet you, Mrs. Baker. Gary.”

“Eggsy.”

“Thanks for the lift, Merlin. Have a good day.” Harry responded politely.

“I'll let myself out.”

When Merlin left the room, and the rap of the door closing behind him set the temperature of the conversation at Freezing point.

Harry leaned forwards and gestured to the tray.

“Tea?”

Michelle shook her head as Eggsy gave a 'Nah'.

Silence.

Harry leaned forwards and poured himself a cup of tea.

“Mrs. Baker, I imagine that you're not very happy to see me.” he began, uncertain of how much she had told her son.

Michelle looked up at him.

“That's an understatement, Mr. Hart.” she said softly. “You turn up on my doorstep, you drag my son into this, after what happened.”

“What DID happen, mum? Nobody has fucking told me anything. This geezer gives me a medal after my dad dies, what am I meant to think?”

“Your father saved my life.” Harry replied bluntly.

Michelle looked at him, her blue eyes growing thick with emotion. He'd never explicitly said what had happened with Lee, but had an idea that the reason this man was giving her the favour. After all, when did people like Harry Hart give a shit about people like her and Lee.

“...I missed something, something critical and if your father hadn't done what he did, not only I, but also Merlin, and a dear friend James would have died too.”

Eggsy's face softened, and he smiled proudly, looking back at his mum, beaming, mistaking her sorrow for grief filled pride.

“...Your father was a brave man, a good man.”

“You in the army with him? Was you his Sergeant? Was Merlin with you?”

“Yes. But I'm afraid I can't tell you much more, Eggsy.”

“Why was you on the estate? Who stabbed you?”

Harry looked at Eggsy, the tone he had asked wasn't hungry, like it had been about his father, it was softer. Kinder.

“Classified. But let me assure you, that your finding me was a coincidence, and one I am grateful for. It seems that you saved my life.”

“...tell me about my dad, Harry?”

“That's enough!” Michelle snapped. “I've heard enough. Mr. Hart, I'm grateful for your help—But that's enough. I don't want you dragging my son into whatever you do. My husband is dead because of you, and now I can't go home because of you!”

“Mum! That's not fair! Dean was gonna fucking kill me.”

“Eggsy.” Michelle pleaded. “He wouldn't...he was just angry is all, he needed your rent money and he was a bit tired 'cos he didn't sleep wel--”

“Nah, mum. I don't care. You make excuses for him all the time. He hits me, he was gonna hit you and he was gonna hit Daisy if I kept us there.”

“You know I'd never let him lay a hand on Daisy.”

“Yeah, and he'd fucking kill you if you got in his way.”

Harry's glasses gave a soft beep that was lost in the furore of the argument between mother and son and Harry tapped the site automatically to bring up the message.

A green grid appeared and a message flickered up.

 

'LANCELOT IS DEAD.'

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry reflects on his loss, but gains something new he never knew he could appreciate

Harry froze as the message flashed up on his HUD, his eyes frozen in panic as he processed the news, keeping his face expressionless.

James was dead.

James. One of his oldest friends. The agent he had taken under his wing when Lee had died. Gone.

Harry felt a warmth spread through his chest, down his arms, as the coldness in his stomach extended beyond his abdomen and rushed down his legs, to his toes. Grief flooding him with emotion that he dare not show, not here...not now.

“...Do excuse me...” he began very quietly before getting to his feet and leaving the room.

He made it across the hallway, and to the downstairs bathroom, closing the door behind him before pushing his hand to his lips and closing his eyes bitterly, feeling the prick of hot tears burning in his eyes as he stared at the message.

Lancelot is dead.

Harry closed his eyes, releasing two heavy tears that rolled down his cheeks and settled in the crease in his lips that were pressed together tight, trying not to make a sound as he realised he would never see James again, or shake his hand, share a joke, a drink, dinner, a card game, or post-mission blues ever again.

He had died on a mission.

He cried silently into his hand, his chest heaving as he expelled wordless pain into his fingers, trying to imagine James' dead body somewhere remote, some far flung african desert, or some icy tundra, there to stay, unrecoverable and in complete selfish grief he almost forgot the others...Percival, Merlin...Arthur.

He sniffed thickly, his eyes opening, the lashes wet with thick webs of tears, trying to pull himself together to function as he remembered that a duty was expected of him now.

He would need to pick himself up, go to the shop...and attend the toast.

But...Eggsy, Michelle...Daisy.

His eyes moved to Mr. Pickle, the dog that was sat above his sink and with a stab of heartache, he remembered that James would coo at him as though he were alive when he came to visit and how Harry rebuked him for it.

How once, he found a _Bonio_ biscuit tucked under the dogs chin with a ribbon curled around it at Christmas and how he had sent him an angry email because of it.

He sniffed thickly again, and considered his options.

a) He leaves Michelle and Eggsy here. A safe option for them, but it ran two risks. One being that he barely knew them, and that there was every option they could go through his private things. The other being that he had numerous 'bits and bobs' that were not meant for civilians to find. Granted, the majority of them were in his office which could be locked, but still...

b) He could take them with him, arrive at the shop with a mother, daughter and son of a former candidate and have Arthur flay him for it. Perhaps they'd drink a double toast. One for James, one for his career.

Or

c) Unceremoniously put them in the nearest hotel with space. No explaination and go back for them when all of this was over.

Harry quickly weighed the options and discarded b. Not a chance. a, was viable, but needed tweaking. c, would take far too long to operate, and would potentially risk the security of Kingsman if they decided to talk...

Another message flashed up on his glasses.

 

'REPORT TO THE SHOP'

 

Harry adjusted his glasses, dismissing the message and decided that he would go with option a, with some modifications.

He swept the tears from his cheeks, coughed and flushed the toilet to cover his absence before washing his hands and drying them.

As he returned to the living room, he felt the tension had dissolved slightly in his absence.

“My apologies.” he remarked, sitting down. “...I've just had a phone call from the shop, a--”

“I'm sorry.” Eggsy interrupted. “I shouldn't have raised my voice...in your house.”

Harry knew that those were not in his words, after all, what young person knows the intricacies of etiquette in someone else's home.

He knew that his mother had probably insisted on the apology.

“...Please, don't worry.” Harry replied, somewhat taken aback by the interruption and the apology. “I'm afraid I've just had a phone call from the shop, and one of my clients has requested an urgent adjustment meaning that regrettably, and in conflict with my wishes, I will have to be an awful host and leave you unattended for an hour or two.”

Michelle's brows met as she looked to Eggsy.

“...You still reckoning you're a tailor?” he snarked.

Michelle made a tut at her son.

“Please, help yourself to whatever you'd like in the kitchen. The guest room is upstairs.” he continued, standing. “Feel free to freshen up. And I will arrange for some bits and pieces to be delivered.”

“Bits and pieces?” Eggsy asked.

“Toiletries and such.” he replied. “I really do apologise, but it's unavoidable.”

He looked to Michelle briefly, hoping she'd meet his glance, but she did not.

“I'll be as swift as I can.” he continued, heading to the hallway.

Eggsy looked to his mum.

“This ain't right, mum.”

Michelle continued to look to her daughter who was now fast asleep on her chest.

“...Mum, it ain't right, is it?”

In a fit of urgency, Eggsy got to his feet and walked into the hallway.

“Harry.” he began as the man prepared to leave.

Harry turned and looked to him.

“--The fuck is going on?”

“I won't be long.” Harry promised. “He won't find you here. I assure you.”

He placed his hand on Eggsy's shoulder.

Eggsy bowed his head, his brow wrinkled with unspoken concern.

“You trust me to stay in your house, guv?” Eggsy murmured. “If you saw my rap sheet, you'd kick me out.”

Eggsy didn't know why he said that to Harry, he didn't know why he admitted to being a criminal to someone who he sort of respected, but it felt honest. Like he needed to be honest with Harry.

Harry gave a smile Eggsy thought was half way between the sort someone might give their favourite nephew, and the sort that was sad. Perhaps he was thinking about his dad.

Harry looked as though he were about to say something, but then he removed his hand.

“Back soon.”

He handed Eggsy a card from the telephone table in the hallway.

“If you need me, this is the shop. Ask for Mr. Hart.”

Eggsy took the card.

“ _Kingsman Tailors, Savile Row_.” Eggsy repeated, reading the card. “...You really a tailor?”

Harry's smile warmed up, and he headed out.

As the door closed behind him, Eggsy saw a taxi was already waiting.

Eggsy turned around and looked around. At this different house. A far cry from where he was this morning, and his head was buzzing with it.

Questions, fear, anger, stress.

He walked back in to the living room.

“Today gets stranger and fucking stranger.” he began, sitting down. “...If you want, I can call Ryan, his Uncle runs a bed and breakfast in Croydon. I can see if he can get us a room there for a few days until I work somethin' out.”

“No, Eggsy.” Michelle began. “No matter where we go, he's gonna find us. I should never have gone. I should have stayed.”

Eggsy's eyes creased, he swallowed painfully. Didn't she realise that he was gonna kill her? And the baby? Didn't she care?

“Mum, Harry's gonna fix this, yeah?”

“Who is he, Eggsy? Harry? He's a bloke who ended up getting your dad killed. A bloke with a posh house and a posh accent and a past he won't come clean about.”

“I trust him, mum. For some fucking reason I trust him, and if dad trusted him--”

 

*

 

“--that should be good enough for you.”

Harry smiled slightly, despite the circumstance at hearing Eggsy, his fathers son through and through, trusting him, even without grounds to.

As the taxi pulled up, Harry pushed the button on the taxi, cutting off the screen which displayed the tracker Harry had placed on Eggsy's shoulder and transferring the feed and audio to his glasses with a tap on the arm of the glasses.

“Shall I wait for you, sir?” asked the driver.

“Better not. Not sure how long this will take. If you're at at loose end, I'd be obliged if you could kindly retrieve me some items, actually.”

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry bids goodbye to an old friend, and Eggsy makes a decision for the good of his family

Harry made his way up the stairs to the boardroom of the Kingsman shop, 11 Savile Row.

He had a light film of sweat on his forehead from the exertion of moving as swiftly as he usually did but with a rather painful injury, and with the urgency of getting to the meeting in reasonable time.

He rounded the corner and opened the double doors before casually strolling in, putting up a front.

It would not do to show weakness in front of Arthur.

“Arthur.” he greeted, moving towards his seat.

“Galahad. The others were wondering if we were going to have a double toast.” he gestured to the table.

Harry didn't respond. Yes, he was late, and yes, he had a bloody good reason for it, but given he was weak from an injury that still needed medical attention, had the wife and son of an ex-candidate in his house, and had just lost a very close friend, he felt he was remarkably together.

He smoothly moved to his seat as Arthur put on his glasses. Harry copied suit and gazed at the green, holographic faces of his colleagues, all around the globe, brought together by this sad occasion, and duty of what would come next.

“Gentleman. I'm thankful to say it's been 17 years since we've last had occasion to use this decanter.”

Harry glanced to the mirror, where the usual reflective surface that was pristine and streak free showed James' case file, then lowering his gaze to the vacant chair Lancelot normally took.

“Lancelot, was an outstanding agent, and a true Kingsman...”

 _And a good friend..._ Harry thought.

“He will be sorely missed.”

Arthur picked up his glass.

“...To Lancelot.”

At once, Harry and the others raised their glasses to follow suit.

“To Lancelot.”

Harry drank back his Napoleonic brandy, its warmth, scalding. It's flavour, bitter.

“I intend to start the selection process for Lancelot's replacement tomorrow.” Arthur began with almost indecent haste after the solemn toast.

Seventeen years loyal, dedicated service gone in a few choice words, and a mouthful of brandy.

“I want each of you to propose a candidate and have them report to UK HQ by no later than 9pm, GMT. Thank you.”

Harry glanced up at Percival who was sat opposite, and prepared to remove his glasses, glad that it was over.

Harry was about to get up and leave, curious as to why he hadn't heard anything in his earpiece from Eggsy for the last 10-15 minutes when he heard footsteps and looked to the doorway.

Merlin.

He glanced over Merlin, who was now refreshed and looking much like his usual self with his wool and cashmere blend jumper and his clipboard.

“Merlin.” Arthur greeted. “Come in.”

Merlin gave a nod and walked to the mirror as Harry watched him, wondering if he'd confessed to Arthur where he'd been this morning and what happened in the estate.

Merlin's eyes met Harry's and Harry knew that he was 'safe' so to speak. This was a briefing. Not an interrogation or disciplinary.

“Lancelot was investigating a group of mercenaries who were experimenting with biological weaponry.” he explained to Harry who had no idea what James had been doing when he was killed. Kingsmen agents never shared their missions even after debrief, it was bad form and highly dangerous to pass on classified, need to know information.

“Glasses gentleman, please.” Merlin began, tapping at his clipboard.

 

*

Eggsy had abandoned his jacket and the mic in the spare room where his mother had, after muttering and murmuring for twenty or thirty minutes about being left alone in a perfect strangers house and had told Eggsy that soon Daisy would need changing and to go out and get some nappies.

When Eggsy told her that he hadn't got any money, she pulled a crumpled twenty pound note from her bra and handed it to him.

Eggsy left his jacket behind to wrap around Daisy who was sleeping on the bed, so that she wouldn't feel so unfamiliar in this strange place as his mother sat on the bed next to her and stroked her hair.

“...Shall I get her some formula?” he asked.

Michelle nodded and looked up at him.

“Please, babe. Don't get lost yeah?”

Eggsy was glad that she was at least talking to him properly now.

Eggsy made sure to pull the door shut behind him, knowing that Dean wouldn't dream of thinking of looking for his mum and Daisy down some fancy, Kensington end of mews place.

Looking left and right, he was very aware that he stood out like a sore thumb.

The well maintained, well kept house fronts with immaculately groomed plants in large painted planters and brass door knockers.

If any of the neighbours were watching, they'd wonder if he was casing the joint, or hopefully as a distant, estranged relative.

Eggsy had to find a shop.

He'd been to Kensington before, on a class trip where they went to Kensington Gardens and Jamal got detention for jumping in The Long Water and yelling he was a swan.

But he'd never seen around here before.

He dug his hands in his jeans, his hand wrapped around the twenty pound note as he walked down the Gloucester Road towards where he assumed some shops might be judging by the amount of people crowding there. If he could find a tube station, he might be able to find a _Boots_ too.

_The fuck was he doing..._

_The FUCK was he doing..._

He should have just take the beating from Dean and be done with it. A few more bruises, a split lip a black eye and walking on eggshells for a few weeks and it would be done.

But Harry had been there, and he had dealt with it with such ease, he hadn't even broken a sweat. _He'd have been mental not to take that chance..._

Harry looked like he had money. Maybe he could lend him a bit, try and get out of London with his mum and Daisy.

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and he picked it up, forgetting he even had it. He thought for a second that Dean had found him, but when he saw Ryan's name flash up on the screen, he felt relieved.

He answered.

“Oi Oi.”

“Eggsy, were the fuck are ya? Rottie and the lads are looking fuckin' everywhere for Michelle.”

_Fucks sake.._

“Look, I'm safe yeah? I'm with mum and the baby, but Ryan, you can't tell them you've called me. Dean is gonna fucking go off his nut if he finds me.”

“Eggsy, what the fuck happened mate? Dean is roaming round the estate, looking for Michelle and Daisy in Rottie's car, The rest of em reckon an old bloke in a suit and a gasman beat the shit out of 'em while you watched.”

Eggsy paused, and swallowed.

 _Fuck_.

Thinking fast, Eggsy swallowed, his eyes darting back and forwards.

“Ryan, your uncle still got that B&B in Croydon?”

“Gav? Yeah. Why?”

“Look mate, I need you to get me a family room there. A nice one yeah? For mum, Daisy and me. And I'll pay up front. I'm getting mum out of there. I ain't having her living in fear of that cunt's mood anymore.”

“You sure, Eggsy?”

“Yeah, but keep it quiet yeah, don't tell Jamal. You know what he's like with keeping his mouth shut.”

“I'll call you later, yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Eggsy hung up, and looked straight ahead, and saw a Tesco.

Perfect.

He'd get the nappies, grab the formula and head back to Harry's house and pitch the idea to his mum.

 

*

As Harry moved through the shop, the brief in his hand, Merlin caught up with him, putting his hand on his shoulder.

“Harry.”

Harry looked to him.

“...Medical. _Now_.”

Harry sighed.

“I can't, not now. I've left them alone at the house, and on top of having three unexpected house guests, I also have a candidate to find before 9pm tomorrow.”

“...I think I have the answer for you. And It'll make it stick in Arthur's craw somethin' rotten.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> technically, I am late. But technically, so is Harry, so can I blame him?


End file.
